Angel's Fall
by delovlies
Summary: He wanted to end his life. Not mess it up even more than it already was. Newt's jump and what happened after. Written before the Fever Code, but still pretty canon. Gen, preseries. WIP.
1. Chapter 1

*****Warning: this is basically one large spoiler for how Newt got his limp.**

 **Summary: Gen, preseries.**

 **So, I've read a few oneshots about the actual jump but not a lot dealing with the aftermath and there's tons of angst to be had there. I also wanted to just write it out. But this is pretty much just going to be necessary Newt whumpage, H/C and all that fun stuff. Attempted suicide, so read at your own risk.**

 _Alby couldn't breathe. For several seconds he stood, unable to move, unable to breathe, unable to do anything except feel his heart beating wildly in his chest. An awful feeling of dread flooded his veins._

 _His friend was lying at the base of the wall, seemingly unconscious. Alby could see his right leg was bent at awkward angle and he was halfway curled up, an arm tucked over his head as if to protect himself_

 _Newt._

 **Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

"Newt, are you even listening to me?"

Newt blinked, realizing that someone was talking to him and he hadn't heard a single word.

"Newt!" Someone whacked his arm to get his attention and he turned to see Minho half-glaring at him.

"Oh, sorry," he said, his voice cracking a little. "What did you say?"

Minho rolled his eyes. "I said to get back early, you dumb shank. Alby said he's giving everyone the night off for once. So be back an hour before dark."  
Newt nodded, absentmindedly adjusting the straps on his harness. It was still dark in the Glade, still early. He, Minho and the other runners were gathered outside the doors, waiting for them to open.

He'd barely heard what Minho had said, not over the pounding in his head. His attention was focused on the doors. Newt _needed_ to run. Running made him forget, let him push everything aside and just focus on what he was supposed to do. Never mind he was searching for something that wasn't there, running for a cause that no longer existed. It didn't matter. Running was the only thing he could do anymore.

Finally, the harsh scraping of rock against rock met his ears and he was rewarded with the opening of the Maze. "Alright, guys, let's go," Minho said, just like he did every morning, before he bolted into action. The runners quickly separated, each boy knowing where to go and what to do. Newt was so glad to finally be alone.

He'd been in the maze for over a year now. He'd been a runner almost the whole time. Runners looked for a way out. Except by now he knew that there just wasn't one.

They never talked about it, but he was pretty sure Minho thought the same thing.

The difference was that Minho still believed it was out there somewhere.

Newt didn't.

He picked up his pace, running faster, noting the changes from overnight. There was nothing but the sounds of his feet pounding the pavement and his own heavy breathing. He squeezed his eyes shut for a second, pushing his thought away. He needed to forget.

He could run without thinking, without dwelling on the fact that they were stuck in the Maze. That by some cruel twist of fate they had been stuck here, in a hopeless world, with no chance of escape.

 _Don't think, just run._

He shot forward, sprinting full on, without even realizing he was doing it. He had a job to do, and he was going to do it.

He kept going for the rest of the morning.

When, once again, he reached the final dead-end, Newt finally stopped. He was here a little earlier than usual, so he could rest for longer before heading back. He pulled out his water and took a long drink. He thought about eating, but the thought of food suddenly made him feel nauseous and he closed his pack up quickly. Instead, he settled down, leaning against the wall.

His elevated heart rate slowed back to normal and Newt let out a long breath.

It would be so much easier to just give up. Let go. Die.

Sure, he'd considered it. It could be easy. Just don't get back, stay in the maze and let the grievers take care of everything.

Or he could head off into the deadheads and slit his wrists or something.

He'd thought about it once or twice, but he'd never done it. _Too much of a coward._ He was too scared. Fear of pain, and fear of the unknown.

He leaned his head back against the wall and closed his eyes.

 _The walls._

 _Of course._

Why had he never thought of that? Climb halfway up the wall and just jump off. Simple, clean, easy. No knives, no grievers, just let go.

Newt's eyes opened slowly. Part of him wanted to do it, so badly. But still part of him was scared.

He got up slowly, suddenly feeling exhausted. He broke into a jog, but his legs didn't obey. He moved at a walk.

The others might miss him, but they'd get over it. He wouldn't be the first glader to die.

They'd still be stuck in here, but he'd be free.

He kept walking. The next hour passed quickly, it felt like only a few minutes.

The walls on either side of him taunted him. Maybe the only way out was death.

He didn't know how long it had been until he stopped, putting one hand on the wall to keep himself from falling. The cold stone felt good. He was so tired.

Newt's hands were grasping the vines, and he was climbing. Slowly, methodically. The muscles in his arms burned, but he kept going. His foot found a tiny ledge, and he suddenly couldn't keep going. He dared a glance downwards.

He was pretty high up, far enough for a jump to be fatal. A bead of sweat ran between his shoulder blades and Newt shivered. He was exhausted, and an eternal sleep was only a few moments away.

He was just ready to give up. He couldn't care anymore. This was the only way out. His eyes smarted with unshed tears as he looked around once more. Funny, the maze looked almost nice from up here.

He squeezed his eyes shut, too cowardly to watch his own death. One tear made its way out of his eye and snaked down his cheek.

He thought briefly of his friends, _I'm sorry_ and _goodbye_ running together in his thoughts.

Newt took a deep breath. His death grip on the vines loosened. He let go, and jumped.

For a split second, he was aware of wind rushing past him.

Then, agony shooting up his right leg when it made contact with the ground.

A cry of pain escaped his lips, and then he toppled backwards. His head hit the hard cement of the maze floor.

He realized that he was still alive just before he blacked out.

 **XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

"Alby, hey!"

Alby turned to see Minho jogging towards him. He'd dropped his harness, but from the looks of it he hadn't been back in the glade very long.

"You seen Newt? He's not back yet."

Alby shrugged. "I haven't seen him. Thought he was in the map room with the rest of you all."

Minho's jaw tightened. "He's not."

Newt was _never_ late. He was absolutely astute. He wouldn't be late when they got the night off. "Minho…do you think he's okay?" Alby asked softly, looking towards the doors.

They both knew Newt had been acting weird lately. They didn't have to talk about it.

Minho didn't answer the question. "I think—I'm going to go get him." He looked at Alby as if asking permission.

"I'll come with you. We'll cover more ground that way."  
They split up once they got in the maze. Minho would search the inner part closest to the door. He told Alby to go search section five, Newt's section. He didn't think Newt would have gone anywhere else.

Alby knew Newt was still out there once he got to the opening of the section. Newt's chalk marks were still there. He checked his watch. Forty-one minutes until the doors closed. He started running.

He followed the twists and turns of the maze, checking his watch constantly. Within twenty minutes he would have to turn around. There was no sign of Newt. Alby's stomach was tight.

He only had a few more minutes to go when he turned a corner and stopped dead in his tracks.

Alby couldn't breathe. For several seconds he stood, unable to move, unable to breathe, unable to do anything except feel his heart beating wildly in his chest. An awful feeling of dread flooded his veins.

His friend was lying at the base of the wall, seemingly unconscious. Alby could see his right leg was bent at awkward angle and he was halfway curled up, an arm tucked over his head as if to protect himself.

 _Newt._

Alby finally bolted into action, running forward.

He reached Newt, kneeling just short of his friend's prostrate form. Frantically, his hand shaking, Alby felt for a pulse. Had he been stung? Was he even alive?

He went almost limp with relief when he felt one. It also didn't look like he'd been stung. Alby took a shaky breath.

But he felt almost sick when he saw Newt's leg. Not only was it broken, but bleeding where the bone had-

Alby looked away and squeezed his eyes shut. How could this have happened?

For the first time, he registered Newt's harsh breathing, as if he was in pain.

"Newt, can you hear me? Newt?" He was unable to keep his voice from shaking. He gently patted the younger boy's cheek to rouse him. "Newt?"

A moan. Newt's brow furrowed and he cracked open his eyes. "A-Alby?" he sounded like he'd been wandering around in a desert or something. His eyes suddenly opened all the way. "No…supposed to be dead!" It came out half a whimper, half a wail. He grabbed Alby's arm, his fingers gripping the fabric of his shirt. "It didn't work, Alby…" He shut his eyes again, tightly. Alby's stomach clenched at his friend's words. "No, no, no, no…." Newt's arm went limp and dropped back to the ground.

Alby pushed Newt's words out of his head. He couldn't deal with it right now. He had to get him back to the Glade. There were nineteen minutes left. He had to hurry.

 **A/N: So, this is a little shorter than I usually do chapters, but it was a pretty good stopping point and there isn't one for a while. This should be four or five chapters, usually from Newt and Alby's pov, and hopefully Minho will get a few povs too. Next one will be up shortly.**

 **Thanks so much for reading, please tell me what you thought.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Did I say this was going to be up soon last time? Well...not so much. But I got it now!**

 **Anyway, thank you so much for all the reviews/follows/favorites last chapter.**

 **Please forgive any mistakes, and also just remember I'm not a medical expert but I do have internet. Thanks for reading :)**

"Newt, you with me?" Alby shook his shoulder, but there was no response. Newt was unconscious.

Eighteen minutes now. Alby grabbed him around the waist and pulled him over his shoulder in a fireman's carry, Newt's arms hanging limply behind him. He was a lot lighter than Alby had expected.

He could carry Newt, but running with a dead weight on his back was out of the question. Alby swallowed. Jogging was about as fast as he could go. He kept his attention focused ahead of him, not down at Newt's leg, not on his harsh breathing, not on his words earlier. He was not getting stuck out here.

He couldn't let go of Newt to look at his watch. Maybe that was a good thing.

He'd always been good at compartmentalizing. They all were. The gladers that weren't didn't make it. Alby pushed everything out of his mind and focused solely on covering ground as fast he could.

He was maybe halfway back when he heard a sound that almost made him melt with relief.

"Alby? Alby!" It was Minho. He must've finished searching the inner circle and come to find him. With the two of them carrying Newt, they could go much faster.

"Minho, here!" he shouted, and a moment later Minho appeared around the next corner.

"Did you find—" he stopped short, his question answered when he saw Newt draped over Alby's shoulder. His face paled. Alby offhandedly realized that it was probably the first time he'd seen Minho speechless.

"W-what happened? Is he okay?"

With Minho's help, Alby awkwardly set Newt down, trying to jostle him as little as possible. "I don't know. I just found his like this. His leg's broken real bad. I think he must've hit his head too."  
Minho didn't move. He shook his head and stood staring down at their friend. "Hey, we have to go."

There was still no response. "Minho, help me carry him." Alby mustered all the authority into his voice that he could. This time, his command pushed Minho into action.

They got on either side of Newt and propped him up. He moaned softly, now apparently semi-conscious.

"Newt, you with me, man?" Alby asked. The only response was a sharp gasp in pain.

"Here, put your arm around my shoulder, okay?" Minho told him, and Newt opened his eyes long enough to comply before squeezing them shut again. Alby reached across Newt's back and took hold of his waist band. Minho did the same and they hauled Newt up.

He couldn't stand up on his own, he was leaning heavily on Minho, and Alby could barely keep him upright. Alby would have thought he was unconscious if not for the death-grip Newt had on the fabric of his shirt where his hand was on Alby's shoulder.

He had all of his weight on his good leg. They certainly couldn't just drag his legs along. They were going to have to carry him.

Minho muttered what sounded like "Shuck it," under his breath and let go of Newt's hand. "Hang onto me, okay? I'm going to hold up your leg." He lifted Newt's injured leg, so they were half-carrying and half-dragging him.

They started forward again, this time running. Newt would have been in pain if he wasn't moving. It had to be ten times worse being jostled around.  
They finally reached the inner circle, neither of them knowing how much time they had left.

"Hang on, Newt, we're almost there," Alby said, not sure if he was actually talking to Newt or trying to reassure himself. He glanced at his friend, surprised to see his eyes were halfway open.

Newt's arm around Alby's shoulders jerked in a futile struggle. "Lemme go…" he mumbled. "Jus' leave me here." He wanted them to leave him so he could die. Alby's stomach clenched tightly. He wanted them to leave him so he could die. His grip tightened on Newt.

"No can do, buddy. Sorry, you're coming with us," Minho finally spoke up. "We're getting you out of here, Newt."

His eyes met Alby's for a second and both of them consciously picked up the pace.

Maybe the Doors closed a few minutes late that day. It certainly seemed like they had. To Alby thought they had already run out of time when the Glade finally came in sight. They finally staggered out onto the grass, into the dusky light.

By the time they had set Newt down, they were sliding closed. "You stay here with him, I'll go get the med-jacks," Minho told him, and went running off to the Homestead without even stopping to catch his breath.

"Newt? How're you doing?" Alby crouched next to his friend. Newt's eyes were still clenched shut, and his forehead was deeply furrowed.

"Alby?" It came out hardly above a whisper. His opened halfway for a second and then shut again.

"Yeah, right here."

"Hurts…"Newt whimpered. Alby had _never_ heard anyone sound so vulnerable. Certainly not his friend. He didn't know what to do.

"Just hold on, Minho's getting help."

Newt didn't respond, but he relaxed slightly.

Alby let out a breath that he felt like he'd been holding forever. At least they'd gotten out. At least Newt was alive.

He wanted to do _something_ to help besides just sitting there. He was completely out of his element. Alby could give orders, organize the gladers, and keep things running smoothly. He could lead, and he could command. But he had no idea what do now. He couldn't even think of something to say to Newt. He couldn't ask him how this had happened because Newt might confirm that Alby's suspicions really were the awful truth.

Alby knew he wouldn't be able to deal with that. If Newt had given up, that might be the one thing he couldn't handle.

He looked up when he heard running footsteps. Minho had brought back Clint, and Alby was more than willing to let the head med-jack take over.

Clint didn't waste any words. "Minho told me what happened. Is he still conscious?"

"Yeah, sort of. He knew who I was." Alby forced himself to take a deep breath.

Clint crouched next to them. Alby heard his sharp intake of breath when he saw Newt's leg.

"I'm pretty sure he hit his head. He's gotta have a concussion or something. He was in and out of it while we were in the maze, and he was slurring his words at one point." He didn't tell Clint what Newt had said.

Clint nodded. "Sounds like one." He turned to Newt. "Hey, Newt, open your eyes, man. Look at me."

Newt complied slowly, blinking. He glanced around, as if he hadn't realized they were back in the glade.

"His pupil's are dilated. Concussion for sure," Clint said to Alby. "Newt, is it hard to breathe?"

Newt mumbled a garbled "Not really" and shook his head. Immediately, his eyes closed tightly. Moving his head had obviously hurt.

"Sounds like he's just in pain," Clint said. Alby looked over at him. His questions had been normal, routine, and his voice steady. But one look at the med-jack and Alby could see he was shaken from seeing Newt like this. "C'mon, we need to take him to the Homestead. Can't do anything for him out here."

With the three of them carrying Newt, it was easier than before. Newt was completely tensed up against the obvious pain. Alby realized for the first time that Newt's gaspy, shuddering breathing was the sound of someone trying not to cry.

He just wished he'd noticed earlier and had done something to prevent this all.

They navigated the stairs up to the sickroom in the Homestead. Newt's leg brushed the wall in the tight space at one point and he whimpered, high-pitched and painful, his eyes open wide. Alby wanted to kill the person who'd done this to Newt. Except he was pretty sure that would be his friend.

Wasn't his job to watch over the gladers and make sure that something like this didn't happen?

When they finally set Newt down on one of the two cots in the sickroom, suddenly all Alby wanted to do was sleep. But he knew the real work was just about to come.

Jeff was already there, waiting for them to come back. He didn't say anything, but one look at his face showed that he wasn't prepared for what he saw. None of them were, Alby thought.

Minho was standing on the other side of the bed, looking much like he had in the maze. Completely bewildered.

Clint started checking Newt over for other injuries, and Jeff set about cutting the fabric of Newt's pants away below the knee on his right leg. "Hey, Alby, get his shoes off. We're gonna have to set the broken bones. He could've broken his foot too."

Alby nodded. He started with Newt's left foot, pulling the shoe and sock off. He hesitantly moved on to the right foot, knowing it was going to hurt. The second his touched the laces, he heard a little gasp of pain.

"Sorry, man," he whispered, sliding Newt's shoe off slowly and gently. His ankle was bruised and discolored.

Clint came over and stood next to him. "He's good on the other leg, and no broken ribs or anything. But this leg is obviously broken." He continued his exam on Newt's ankle and foot.

Alby moved to stand by Minho, pretty sure he was in the way. He could see his friend's jaw clenched. He said anything since they'd arrived back in the glade and been rooted to this spot since setting Newt down. Runners were relatively solitary, but out of all of them, Minho probably spent the most time with Newt. It was little wonder he was hit the hardest by this.

Clint looked up. "Yeah, ankle's dislocated and it and his foot are broken pretty good too." He turned to address Alby and Minho. "Can you guys hold him down? Hey, Newt, we're going to set the broken bones now. It'll hurt but once it's done it won't be so bad."

Minho moved around to Newt's right side. Alby put one hand on Newt's shoulder and the other above his chest, ready to hold him down. "I'm going to start with your leg. Just hold on," Clint continued.

Alby looked away, focusing his attention over Minho's shoulder. He didn't want to look at what Clint was doing. He felt sick to his stomach already.

Newt let out a quiet moan, and Alby looked down. A little tear had escaped the corner of his eye and was trickling down his temple. He had his hand clenched around Minho's wrist, his knuckle's white. Minho swallowed hard and Alby could see him fighting to keep his emotions under control.

Newt finally relaxed slightly and Clint straightened. "'Kay, leg's good." He and Jeff cleaned the wound where the bone had broken the skin, and finally wrapped his leg up. They moved onto his ankle.

"Newt, you still with us, buddy?" Clint asked.

There was a beat of silence. "Yeah," Newt said, his voice low.

"What happened?" Clint asked.

Newt's eyes opened and he stared up at the ceiling. "Didn't get high enoug…Should have climbed higher."  
Minho looked up, his gaze boring into Alby. "Newt—"

He was cut off when Newt cried out. Clint must have reset his ankle. Newt sat halfway up, and Alby and Minho tried to push him back down.

"'s not right," Newt whimpered, his voice frantic. "Not…"

Clint's face was white, and for a second his hands hovered over Newt's ankle. "Hold on, just—"

There was a sharp gasp from Newt, and then he went limp, eyes shut, completely motionless. The pain had finally been too much and he'd passed out. Alby stepped back.

Clint shook his head. "Wasn't in the right place the first time."

Jeff and Clint finished up, splinting Newt's ankle and wrapping up his foot tightly.

When they were finally done, Clint sank onto the other cot. Alby noticed his hands were shaking. The med-jack put his head in his hands. "Man, I wish he would have passed out a lot sooner. Poor guy, that had to hurt." He looked up at Alby.

"That's okay, man. You did good." The words sounded forced even to him. He glanced over at Newt. It was so weird to see his leg wrapped up in strips of cloth from his knee down. "It'll be okay."

Minho joined them. "What he said…Alby, do you think he really would, you know…" Minho trailed off, looking away.

Alby thought about lying for a second, but the words were out of his mouth before he could change his mind. He didn't want to keep this to himself. "When I found, he told me something hadn't worked. He told me he was supposed to be dead. Man, I wish it wasn't true but I think he did. I think he tried to kill himself."

* * *

 **a/n: I'mnotcryingyourcrying. Poor baby. This hurts me.**

 **Just fwi, all this medical stuff is researched, but I'm sort of playing with the treatment here. Medjacks aren't gonna give Newt surgery and put pins in his leg. This is about all they could do for him in the glade. So it's not exactly proper procedure for a broken leg (ect…) but that sort of plays into Newt having a limp since his leg wasn't treated properly, it doesn't heal properly.**

 **Please review!**


	3. Chapter 3

**Thank you guys for your sweet reviews last chapter! Sorry for the incredibly long wait on this one. Hopefully the next update won't be three months from now. But thanks for sticking with me.**

 **Please forgive any mistakes. :)** **And my terrible attempt to write word slurring. Just go with it and pretend it is halfway legit.**

 ***Warning: may be triggery.**

* * *

He awoke to loud noises, each one slamming in his skull, rivulets of pain. The noises sharpened into talking, voices. Newt didn't try to focus on them; the sound went through his ears without registering.

The last clear thing he remembered was letting go, falling off the wall. And waking up on the floor of the maze, realizing he was still alive. Alby had been there, and Minho, and he vaguely remembered them trying to fix up his leg.

He could barely feel it at all, it was sort of numb. A painful, aching numbness, but still numb. On the other hand, the sharp pain in his head was anything but. He wanted to go back to sleep, fall back into an unconscious darkness that didn't hurt so much.

He didn't know how long it had been until Clint's voice came from next to him. "Hey, man, you awake?"

Newt clenched his fist and tried to say something but it came out sounding more like a garbled moan. He felt oddly detached, like his body wasn't obeying his brain's commands. Nausea roiled in his stomach.

He opened his eyes, trying to get a grip. That was a mistake. It was bright, sunlight pouring in, blinding him. It felt like a shockwave of pain. He couldn't stop the small noise of pain as he clamped his eyes shut again and turned his head to the side.

"'S too bright—" he got out, grinding his teeth together in an effort to stay the unbearable pain. He felt ready to throw up or pass out. Or maybe both.

Clint was saying something. "—forgot about the sensitivity to light. Just hold on, man. I'll fix it."

Newt pushed his fingers against his temple, as if it could stop the sharp stab of pain. His stomach churned. He swallowed hard, trying to stop the inevitable.

"Gon' be sick." Newt pushed himself up one elbow, trying to at least lean over the side of the cot.

Clint had enough experience with vomiting gladers to get a bucket in front of Newt before he vomited. He hadn't eaten anything since the previous morning, and there wasn't much to throw up. Dry-heaving quickly took over, and each heave shot off fireworks of pain behind his eyes.

When his stomach finally stopped feeling like it was turning itself inside out, Newt wilted back down on the bed. He gave himself up to a numbing sleep.

Newt wasn't sure how much time had passed when he woke up again. It wasn't as bright as before. They must have covered up the windows, and he could tell it was later in the day. Clint was gone, and Alby was snoring softly in a chair next to him. Newt shifted, trying to get more comfortable. He was sick of lying on his back. His leg didn't really even hurt as long as kept it still.

Alby snorted, his eyes opening. He saw Newt was awake. "Hey, man, welcome back…I guess."

"How longs't been?"

Alby shrugged. "Just a couple of hours. You slept all night and you were pretty out of it when you woke up this morning. It's almost dark now." He looked away almost as soon as he was finished speaking.

"C'n I have some water?" His mouth felt like it was full of cotton.

"Oh, yeah. Hold on." Newt started to sit up, and Alby immediately reached out to help. Newt pushed the helping hand away with as much force as he could muster. He'd broken his leg. He didn't need help to sit up because of that.

"Here, take this too. Clint left it."

He passed Newt a little round pill, one that he instantly recognized as the precious painkillers that they horded for when one of them was in serious pain. It had been sent up in the Box one time only, more had never come. He lifted the cup of water towards Newt.

"I can do 't." He got one shaky hand around the cup and managed enough to get the pill down. He was still thirsty, but his stomach cramped, rebelling. Newt swallowed, trying to keep it down. Alby was looking at him like he was made of glass. "'M fine," Newt insisted.

Alby smirked humorlessly. "Newt, you got three broken bones in your right leg and the worst concussion Clint said he's ever seen. Your pupils are blown to hell. You can't talk without slurring your words like you've had too much of Gally's special brew, and you threw up this morning."

Newt looked away. His vision was wavering now, too.  
He shut his eyes, trying to end the conversation and keep everything still. All it did was stop the spinning. He squeezed them tighter and laid back down, trying to get somewhat comfortable without moving his hurt leg.

Alby sighed. "Medicine should kick in about thirty minutes."

They didn't talk for a while. Newt had hoped to go back to sleep, but he was fully awake now. Alby didn't leave either. The only good thing was that the headache had at least faded a little, duller now.

"You don' have t'stay, Alby." Newt said when he couldn't stand the silence anymore.

"I don't want to leave you alone," Alby said. "I mean—" he stopped, and Newt didn't prod him to finish. Alby didn't have to tell him that he had figured out what happened. Newt could tell his friend knew.

They were quiet again for a several minutes.

"What happened?" Alby finally said. "Did you fall, or did you jump?"

Newt didn't answer. He stared up at the ceiling.

"You jumped."

"Doesn' matter. 'M still here," Newt said angrily. He didn't want to talk about it. He wanted to pretend it had never happened. If he couldn't be dead, that was the next best thing.

"Newt—"

He rolled over, doing his best to lie on his side and turn his back to Alby without moving his leg. He covered his head with one arm and pulled his good leg close to his chest.

Alby didn't finish whatever he had been about to say. He was still there when Newt finally fell asleep.

He woke again with a start, sometime later. It was completely dark now, and the Glade was quiet. Someone had put a blanket over him, a sleeping bag that was all the way unzipped so it was flat. The painkillers had helped, taking the edge off of the pain and making it almost bearable. Newt was sick of lying in the same position, his hurt leg cramped from not moving.

"Hey, you're awake."

Newt rolled over. Alby was gone, Minho was in his place. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees.

"Yeah, jus' now." Newt sat up and rubbed his eyes.

They had never been at a loss for words before. Even if they didn't have anything to say, silences were usually comfortable. They weren't awkward and full of unsaid words and questions.

He hadn't seen Minho since the previous night, but he could tell that Alby wasn't the only one who knew what had happened. Minho did too.

"Alby left?" He picked at a stray string on the blanket.

Minho nodded. "Couple hours ago. I couldn't sleep so I told him I'd stay here."

That was the second time someone had told him that they didn't want him to be alone. They probably thought he was going to try something again.

"You want to talk about it?" Minho finally asked after several long moments of silence.

"Whas there to talk 'bout?" Newt shot back.

This wasn't supposed to have ended up like this. They weren't ever supposed to know what had happened and why he'd done it. They were supposed to find his body on the floor of the maze and assume he'd fallen or been killed by grievers or something. And if they assumed he'd jumped, well, at least he wouldn't be around to know about it.

"I just want to know why you did it," Minho said quietly. He was looking at Newt the same stupid way Alby had earlier. Like he was about to shatter into a million pieces. The same way Minho looked when they'd buried one of their friends or when the new greenie was overwhelmed enough to just start sobbing. Full of pity.

All of the ugly thoughts that he'd pushed down were coming back up, and Newt didn't hold them back this time.

"There's no way out, Minho. 's no way outta the maze other than t' die."

Minho wasn't looking at him anymore; he was staring at the floor. "Man, just because we haven't found one doesn't mean there isn't one." He was talking so quietly, so unlike Minho. Like he had had to tiptoe around Newt, and if he was too loud, something could happen.

"Or maybe there really isn't one."

They were quiet for a long time. When Minho did speak, his voice was rough. "Newt, one day we are going to get out of here. I know there's a way out."

Newt shook his head. Immediately, the action sent searing pain flaring through his head. He hissed, squeezing his eyes shut. The moment passed and he was suddenly frustrated. He didn't even remember hitting his head.

"You just gave up." Minho's voice was a little louder now, a little more normal. "You were just going to leave us here, Newt?"

Newt didn't respond.

"Look, it was bad enough for me and Alby to find you. And you were still alive. If you would have been dead…" he trailed off.

"I couldn't even die properly. Mess' myself up an' I'm still here," his words came out as bitter humor that neither of them found remotely funny.

Minho swallowed. "You could have said something. To Alby or me or someone. Told us what was going on. We're your friends. We could have helped, that's what we're here for."

Newt stared up at the ceiling. He'd wanted to. Tried to, even. But the words had never come. He hadn't wanted them to know, hadn't wanted them to look at him differently. Like they were doing now.

"'S not like I did against my will. I wanted to die. _I still do._ "

Minho's head jerked up to look at him. Newt looked away. It was out in the open, and even though Minho had to know, it was still a shock to hear Newt say it.

"C'mon, man, you don't mean that," Minho whispered.

"What else 's here, Minho? Some sick freak jus' stuck us'ere and we're trapped and there's no place to go. Whas the point of being in this bloody place? Easier just to give up and die." The words exploded out of him.

Minho grabbed his arm. "We're going to find a way out. There has to be one, okay? They wouldn't put us here if there wasn't a way out. And we all have to work together, Newt. That's what Alby always says. I don't want to have to see anymore of my friends die. We need each other, _we need you,_ and—"

It was all suddenly too much, and Newt shoved Minho away and sat up. The room tilted violently, and he thought he was going to pass out again. He wished he would.

"What are you doing?" Minho tried to push him back down, and Newt fumbled, grabbing for his wrist and trying to move him away.

He needed to get away, he needed to leave. He threw back the sleeping bag and swung both of his legs over the bed.

"Newt!" Minho was up now, grabbing a handful of his shirt. Newt finally got a hold of his wrist and pulled him off. Before he could get his feet under him, Minho had a hold of his arms and was holding him down. "Just stop, it's okay, calm down, dude." His breathing was ragged.

Newt struggled in his grip. "Please just lemme go, I gotta get out of here." He was yelling now, heart pounding. "Don' want to be here anymore. 'M still here and I don' wanna be. _Please,_ just leave me alone."

Minho's grasp loosened and Newt moved, standing up, putting all his weight on his good leg. He tried to take a step, needed to get away. The second he put weight on his right leg, the pain hit and he collapsed, the broken bones protesting with sharp twinges. He cried out, not expecting it.

"Hey—" Minho shouted, and he would have fallen on his face if Minho hadn't have caught him.  
He was back on the bed again, and Minho was talking. "…Such a stupid, _stupid,_ shank, Newt, you shouldn't have done that, you shouldn't have done that."

His head was slamming with pain, his leg was on fire. He tried to curl up, make himself small as possible. Maybe it would hurt less then. Maybe he could just disappear.

Minho was holding onto his shoulder, and Newt realized someone was crying. It wasn't a sound unheard of in the Glade, but it was one he'd never heard from Minho.

"It's okay, we're going to find a way out, Newt, I promise."

Newt squeezed his eyes shut, trying to block out his friend. It wasn't supposed to happen like this. Not like this.


	4. Chapter 4

It was so high up. Newt didn't remember climbing this high. The walls were rising above him, still higher, and below the floor of the maze waited. He could feel the vines under his hands, damp with his sweat and rough against his palms. He was nervous. But it was easy to let go.

He was falling, the floor rising up to meet him, slower than he remembered. Then, the sickening _crunch_ beneath him, and a sudden, stabbing rush of pain.

* * *

Newt jolted awake, disoriented. He pushed himself up on one elbow, shoving aside the blanket. It was dark; he'd slept the whole day again. He thought Minho had been with him last night, but maybe more time than that had passed.

He blinked, the dream was slowly dissolving, but the pain was still there. And bloody klunk his leg _hurt._

He remembered when he first started running, he would get terrible muscle cramps in the middle of the night. He'd wake up with aching legs, feet and ankles, unable to go back to sleep. Minho had sat up with him sometimes then, saying something like _yeah, I used to get those too. You'll get used to it._

He remembered holding onto his leg when it would cramp up. It mentally helped with the pain if nothing else did. But this wasn't like that.

He sat up straighter, reaching for his leg, grinding his teeth to keep back a whimper. He had to bend his knee to reach, and it was stiff from disuse and from being so tightly wrapped.

Having the slight pressure on his leg helped the tiniest bit. It shouldn't be hurting like this. The whole thing hurt, the area around his shin, his ankle and his foot.

He tightened his grip. Something had happened; the bone had come back out of place or something. It just hurt, and it hadn't hurt like this before. Newt pressed his forehead into his knee, and involuntarily whimpered.

"Newt? What's going on?"

Alby. He'd forgotten he was there. Newt heard shifting in the chair beside the bed but didn't look up. "You okay, man?"

"Something's wrong—" he stopped, feeling like his throat muscles had seized up.

"Your leg?" Alby asked, leaning down over him. "Do you want me to get Clint?" Newt nodded. "I'll be right back, okay? Just wait a minute."

He was gone, and Newt off-handedly realized that it was the first time he'd been alone since he jumped. Inexplicably, a lump rose in his throat, his eyes smarted.

He could still feel the terrible snap of bone, and remembered the sudden realization that he wasn't going to die. Waking up, something was just wrong, something was broken.

He swallowed hard, brought up one hand to wipe his eyes and nose, took a deep breath. He squeezed the limb tighter, digging his fingers into his skin, trying to get himself together.

Alby returned with Clint not five minutes later. "Hey, what's going on?" Clint asked him.

Newt didn't want to move, it wasn't as bad when he was holding his leg. "It just really hurts. More than it has." He couldn't think of anything else to say. His voice sounded small to even him, forcing himself to put on a brave face. "I'm sorry you had to get up, Clint. It's not that bad."

Clint knelt next to the bed. "Newt, you broke it. It's supposed to hurt. It's okay." He turned to Alby, still hovering in the doorway. "When's the last time anybody gave him painkillers?"

Alby's gaze slid down to his feet. "Probably 24 hours. It kinda slipped my mind."

Clint's jaw tightened. "That's not good, but it's probably not what's wrong. Throw 'em to me, they might help a little bit."

Alby complied, tossing the white bottle across the room. He left and came back with a cup of water. Newt realized how ridiculously thirsty he was, took the medicine obediently. "Can you let go so I can look at your leg?" Clint asked, his voice gruff but soft.

Newt did, balling his hands up instead as the pain increased. The lump in his throat was back. He was glad it was mostly dark so he couldn't actually see what his leg looked like. Alby was looking away.

"How's the head?" Clint said after a few minutes of silence.

"It's not so bad. Hurts, but not like before-" Clint waited for him to start talking before he prodded at the broken bones. He stopped immediately, hissing quietly, the twinge of pain bringing tears to his eyes.

"Sorry, man." Clint moved onto Newt's ankle, which hurt just as bad. He squeezed his hands tighter, trying to look anywhere but at the other two. Clint spoke up again, "Minho said you tried to get up last night?"

There were several beats of silence, Clint not looking up from his work and Alby decidedly looking down. "Uhh, yeah," Newt finally said roughly. No one said anything.

"That probably didn't do you any favors. But everything looks okay; nothing here needs to be reset. There's not really anything I can do. It might help if you relaxed a little. Muscles are real tight."

Newt swallowed again, not wanting to say anything. He was afraid if he did, he'd start crying. He closed his eyes, tried to relax like Clint had said. His legs refused to cooperate, he was afraid of hurting himself if he moved them even a little bit.

Clint got up, "Sorry, man. Wish we had something stronger to give you, but the meds should kick in soon. I am going to rewrap it, though. It'll be sore, but I might as well since I'm here."

He crossed the room to get bandages to wrap Newt's leg, and said something softly to Alby.

Newt opened his eyes long enough to see Alby nod and leave quietly. Clint came back, starting unraveling the old strips of cloth around his leg and replacing them. He worked quickly and deftly, he'd done this plenty of times before. It wasn't exactly uncommon for one of the Gladers to break something.

The silence felt heavy, unbearable. Newt cleared his throat, floundered for something to say. He rubbed his arms, realized someone had taken his watch off at some point. "What time is it?"

Clint paused for a second. "Not sure. After midnight, maybe? It was when Alby woke me up."  
"Sorry."

Clint shrugged. "That's kind of what I'm here for, Newt. I wouldn't be much good as a Runner or a Builder."

He pulled the bandage tight, making Newt wince. He'd used the same tactic he had before, talking to distract Newt while he did something. "How's that feel?"

Newt cleared his throat again, his voice sounded hoarse. "Better. Feels more stable. Kinda achy, though."

Clint nodded, moved onto his ankle and foot. Newt took that as a sign that it was the right answer. Clint's face was, as usual, unreadable. "It's going to heal, right?" he finally asked, feeling a pang of nervousness at what Clint might say.

"Don't see why not. Broken bones always do." His answer was short, clipped.

"But…" Newt asked, feeling it behind Clint's words.

He shrugged. "It might not heal…right. Especially since you did something to your leg, your ankle _and_ your foot. I mean, you'll be able to get around, but…" he shook his head. "It's no use guessing, we'll just have to see, okay?"  
Newt nodded, feeling a headache start flaring up at the action. The concussion was getting better, but it was still there. His leg still hurt, felt tight, but it was less now.

Clint finished up wordlessly, and started rummaging around in one of the boxes. He fished out an extra blanket, threw it over Newt's legs. "Get some sleep, man." He'd slept all day, but he still felt exhausted.

Clint started to sit in the chair by the bed.

"You don't have to stay with me, you know," Newt said quietly. Clint, like Minho and Alby had before him, didn't say anything at first.

"I know, but Alby thinks it's a good idea, and I don't want to cross him. He's been here almost all day, so I told him I'd take over." Clint wouldn't look at him. "He doesn't want us to leave you alone."

Newt was suddenly angry. His friends didn't trust him anymore, couldn't even leave him by himself.

He didn't say anything, stared up at the ceiling. His leg was throbbing, worse than the muscle cramps he used to get when he first started running. It reminded him of that. Alby, Minho and Clint just looked at him differently, like he was going to break. It would have better if they all just ignored what had happened, pretended it didn't.

Clint sighed. "Just try and relax. And Newt," he paused. Newt didn't react. "Minho told me about last night. If you want this to heal, you can't get up or put weight on it for a while."

Newt didn't answer; put the crook of his elbow over his eyes in an effort to get Clint to leave him alone.

That was all he really wanted to do. Get up, get far away, and leave. Just _run._

* * *

Minho scrubbed a hand over his jaw and stretched his sore legs out in front of him. Around him, the other Gladers where laughing and joking over dinner, but for once he wasn't ready to join in. He forced himself to take another bite of Frypan's stew.

He missed Newt, and that was all there was to it. He felt like a little bit of a sissy for admitting it to himself, but they were friends. With Newt out of commission, Minho realized for the first time how much time they had spent together. When they weren't running, Newt was almost always with him. It was just sort of one of those things that had just always been, Newt was always there, and without his friend, Minho was lonely. He could have easily joined any of the other gladers, but Minho was surprised to find he would just rather be alone.

He glanced back towards the Homestead, wondering how Newt was. It had been four days since they'd found him, and three days since Minho had seen him last. He'd mostly been sleeping off the concussion, and Clint and Alby made sure that they checked on him from time to time. Minho hadn't volunteered to go back. It wasn't like he wanted to stay away, but he just couldn't bring himself to.

"Hey," Alby came over; looking tired, and sat down next to Minho.

"Hey." Minho's dinner was cold now, but he made himself finish it. "How's Newt?" he asked, quietly. Other than the two of them, Clint and Jeff, no one knew how Newt had gotten hurt, just that he had.

Alby shrugged. "The same, I guess. Every time I try to talk to him, he just snaps at me, or pretends to be asleep, or gets angry."

Minho set his bowl to the side, it was mostly empty. "Did you get dinner?" he asked, instead of answering. Alby waved his hand, and Minho didn't know if that meant yes, no or shut up. He didn't press the issue.

"It's like I don't even know him anymore, Minho," Alby sighed.

From what Minho had seen and heard, he agreed. Newt was always so easy-going, and he was everyone's friend. New greenies were always scared, but they somehow always managed not to be scared of Newt. In the last few weeks, he's been quieter, but he still knew what to say to people, and he was still the same. Minho had rarely even saw Newt get angry, let alone snap at anyone.

"Yeah, I guess it is," he said softly. "Do you want me to…you know, stay with him?"

"If you want. I think it might help him, to see you. Or maybe not," Alby said quickly. "It won't hurt, at least."

"I'm kind of scared to," Minho said, forcing a small laugh. "Last time…" he shook his head.

Alby glanced away. "I can do it tonight, I'll just crash there. Tomorrow evening, when you get back, you can do it."

Minho nodded in agreement and crossed his arms. They sat in companionable silence for several minutes; most of the other gladers had turned in to go to bed.

Alby drew in a long breath. "Do you think there's a way out, or is Newt right?"

"We've always assumed there was one," Minho said automatically.

"You and Newt know the Maze better than anyone, and he doesn't think so."

"There is one, I know there is, and we are going to find it." Conviction flooded his voice, and Minho clenched his fists, determined. He was going to go into the Maze every until he found a way out. He'd promised Newt, and he was going to find one if it took everything he had. "We have to find it."

Alby looked off towards the walls, glinting silver in the dim light. "I hope you're right, man."

* * *

 **Thanks to** shades **,** Ellethiriel **,** Pg250KilledMe **and the** guests **for the reviews from last time.** **And for the follows/ favorites, but hey, I really like reviews.**


End file.
